


Not Your Fucking Wanheda

by katebishoop



Series: tumblr prompts [3]
Category: The 100 (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Confrontations, F/M, Season/Series 03 Spoilers
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-02-01
Updated: 2016-02-01
Packaged: 2018-05-17 13:47:45
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,548
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5872681
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/katebishoop/pseuds/katebishoop
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Clarke wants nothing more than to leave Polis, to find Bellamy, to make sure he's alright. Lexa has other plans.</p><p>--</p><p>Written before 3x03.<br/>Spoilers for Season 3.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Not Your Fucking Wanheda

**Author's Note:**

> anonymous requested: can you do a Clarke/Lexa confrontation? Because I think Clarke would hold Lexa also responsible for Bellamy being hurt bc she ordered her kidnapping and now doesn't know if he's okay or not?

Clarke slams her hands against the window grate in frustration. She’d been cutting at one of the bars with the knife she’d nicked from one of the guards, but it was no use. The knife wasn’t sharp enough, the bar was too thick, and besides -

“You’ll never be able to climb down.”

Clarke spins around, tucking the knife up her sleeve as she does so. She was so lost in her determination to escape that she hadn’t heard the door open.

“Even if you managed that,” Lexa went on, stepping further into the room, “you’d be recognized. You’d be dead before you got a block away.”

She had been too blinded by rage last time they stood face to face for Clarke really take the Commander in. Even without the warpaint, she is all hard lines and sharp edges. She hadn’t expected to see her again; she had never wanted to see her again. She didn’t know what she would have done if they had met again under different circumstances. She likes to think that she would still have spit in her face. Clarke swishes her tongue in her mouth and wonders if she can manage that again.

But Clarke swallows, now wasn’t the time though she would have preferred if it was. “I don’t care,” she spats, “You have no right to keep me here. I need-”

“For the safety of the Coalition, I can not let the Wanheda fall at the hands of the Ice Queen.”

“I’m not your  _ fucking Wanheda _ .” Clarke is on her in a second, her knife coming out and pressing against Lexa’s throat. She wants nothing more than to be able to slice through her flesh. But she glances down at her lips for a split second, hesitates, hates herself for it.

“Do it.” Lexa breathes. Clarke doesn’t know if Lexa means for her to kill her or to kiss her.

Clarke does neither. She shoves Lexa back and away, but keeps the knife gripped firmly in her hand. Lexa won’t get in her head this time, she won’t have her putting more blood on Clarke’s hands, even if it is her own. Not her blood yet, anyway.

Clarke starts for the door, “I’m leaving. I need to get back to-”

“Yes, Prince Roan mentioned that,” Lexa says in a tone that makes her blood run cold and her legs stop, “he mentioned a rescue attempt, from one of your own.”

She doesn’t turn around to face Lexa, she can’t. She just thinks of Bellamy’s face, his caring eyes and that smile, so bright and full of joy, at seeing her. She shivers, just thinking about how he stroked the hair out of her face. She relishes in the memory of his voice:  _ I’m going to get you out of here. _

She needed to get out of here. She needed to find him, to make sure she was alright. She needed  _ him _ .

“He described the man as gentle, and from your reaction, as probably your lover.”

Clarke turns to face Lexa slowly, she is itching to throw the knife now. “Did  _ Prince  _ Roan mention that he stabbed him? That he left him there with an army of Ice Nation outside?”

“I’m sure that Bellamy-”

_ “Don’t you dare! _ ” Clarke screams at her. She has no right to speak his name. “Don’t… I need to know if he’s alright. I need to see him.”

“ _ I  _ need you’re help Clarke, if we’re going to avoid a war.” Lexa presses on. “Please tell me that war is not what you want.”

“What  _ I want _ ?” Clarke is fuming, boiling. She remembers Lexa leaving her in front of the Mountain, she remembers shooting Dante, she remembers pulling the lever, the  _ bodies _ \- “I never wanted war! I just wanted my people safe. But you left us there to die.  _ You _ betrayed us-”

“It was never my intention to hurt you, Clarke-”

“Oh, go float yourself.” The old colloquialism from the Ark slips out, and it fuels something within her. It reminds her.

She is not the Wanheda. She is not no one. She is Clarke Griffin, of the Sky People. And she will not be forced into being anything else, not again.

Clarke twirls the knife in her hand. “You left  _ me _ to die. You sent someone else to do your dirty work. If anything has happened to Bellamy, that’s on you. And I will kill you.” 

Clarke is back in that subway station, begging for his life. She thought she was going to her death, she was prepared for that. She was content with that being the last time she ever saw him, because at least there was the chance that he’d be alive. But she wasn’t taken to the Ice Queen, but to the Commander of the Coalition. Instead of death, she was thrust back into the spotlight, the politics. This time though, she wouldn’t be a piece in Lexa’s game. She only had one goal now, since she knew this was not the end: _ Bellamy. _

Find him. Keep him alive.

Never leave him again. Have that drink.

Lexa flexes her fingers, and rests her hand on the bed post. “I am hosting a summit in a week's time. I am sending Indra to formally invite the Skaikru. I will have her report on his well being.”

“That’s not good enough.” Clarke growls, “And I want no part of your summit. You’ve went back on your word with us before - hell, you even went back on your agreement to Roan - so why should we even bother?”

“What other choice do you have?” Lexa asks incredulously, “your people have been growing, but they are still weak compared to the Ice Nation. If the Queen wills it, you’ll be wiped out. The only chance you have is under my protection.”

Clarke hates to admit that she is right.  _ Your people have been growing _ . She wonders what Camp Jaha has become, but even then she knows that an army of grounders would take so many lives. 

“You call me  _ Wanheda _ ,” Clarke says, “But I am no commander. It is not up to me to decide what is right for my people.”

She may know that Lexa is right, but Clarke is also stubborn, and scorned, and vindictive, and she will not be used, not again. If Lexa wants an alliance, well, Clarke wasn’t going to help her with that.

Lexa runs a hand over her face, and in an instant she looks tired, resigned, like the weight of the world rests on her shoulders. Clarke doesn’t feel the least bit sorry for her.

Clarke turns and throws open the door to find two guards glaring down at her. Should she have expected anything else?

“I still cannot allow you to leave.” Lexa says cooly, once again devoid of all emotion. “You have the power in you start a war, and the only place you are safe is in this tower.”

A guard reaches out and grabs the knife from her hand, she struggles, but the other pushes her back and her grip is lost.

Lexa makes towards her, but Clarke skirts away like she’s acid fog, like just their proximity will burn her.

“I’d be careful if I were you,” Lexa says, “The Queen of the Ice Nation has a habit of killing those her enemies love.”

Something is set off in Clarke: a match, a fire,  _ anger _ .

“Don’t preach to me your  _ love is weakness _ crap again.” Bellamy’s face, when Clarke had told him that she was being weak pops into her head. His face, when she leaves. His face, when he finds her. “If I’ve learned anything, it’s that love is  _ strength _ .” Clarke takes a step towards her, and she can’t help but feel satisfied when Lexa texts a step back. “And if you want mine, if you have any hope of having me on your side in this, you’ll make sure that Bellamy is alive and safe. If he dies, this alliance dies,  _ you _ die. If  _ anything  _ happens to him, you better believe I will be the  _ Wanheda _ then, because I will burn this city to the ground.”

Lexa’s eyes are glass, and Clarke can see herself in their reflection: she is raw, and red, and full of rage.

She would not bow to this woman, this woman, who is responsbile for too much of the death and suffering in Clarke's life. 

“I believe you,” Lexa says, and it is barely more than a whisper, her own eyes dart towards Clarke’s lips. She straightens herself up then, collects herself, “I will send Indra at once.” And then she is gone, the doors slamming shut and locking behind her.

Clarke screams in frustration, pulling at her hair. She rips the blankets off the bed, kicks the bedpost, throws anything she can grasp against the wall.

There was no way she is going to just sit and wait. He was out there someone, possibly bleeding out, alone. He came after her,  _ alone _ ?

Roan had told her that her people wouldn’t want her, that they wouldn’t want someone who had abandoned them, but there Bellamy was.

_ I’m going to get you out of here. _

And she was going to get to him, if that was the last thing she does.

**Author's Note:**

> I've only ever written Lexa a few lines here and there, and tbh tbh, I try not to think about her character too much. :)
> 
> I've wrote something with some similar qualities before, and you can find that [here](http://archiveofourown.org/works/4411148/chapters/13154533), if you're interested.
> 
> also there's this [really great fanmix](http://8tracks.com/elsa-emmalise/not-your-fucking-wanheda) of the same name that you should listen too.
> 
> come hang out over on [tumblr](http://bellakeyblake.tumblr.com)!


End file.
